”John turned and headed up the hill. He still moved a little slowly and stiffly. He hadn’t recovered fully from the gunshot wound. It was only three days ago that he had been shot. The skier kept shooting out in front.Finally, John waved and called out, “Hey, slow down. I was shot a couple of days ago. I’m still slow moving.”The skier stopped and removed the skis. John headed towards the highway, it was only a mile away. At this pace, it would take him forty-five minutes to reach it. The skier. I know what that means, my turn. She flipped me on my back quickly and started giving me soft kisses down my chest, over my stomach until she reached my hard, throbbing cock. I felt the warm sensation of my wife's mouth on my cock. In one fast move she swallows every inch of my cock down to my balls. My baby loves to take me deep inside her mouth and you will never hear me complain. She starts to work my shaft with her tongue and licks circles around my head. I am in heaven and every stroke. You can’t walk out of here bare assed and walk across the office wrapped up like a Christmas present, your hands cuffed behind your back. Get dressed and go. It’s not like she had ever done any of those things she wrote about. Fantasized, yes. One time a boyfriend had tied her up. Or the time one had tried to put his cock in her ass. She had stopped him, it hurt too much. But she had never really done those things. They were just stories, who knows where they came from. She stood there, looking. Here we go. This should be interesting. I stood in the doorway to see Ruth scrubbing her kitchen bench and polishing the sink. She opened a cupboard underneath the bench and pulled out the trash bag from her bin. "Here," she grunted, lifting the over stuffed plastic bag onto the white work top and tying it shut, "Do me a favor, hon, dump this with the other trash bags outside."I did as I was told and came back into the kitchen to see her stripping off her rubber gloves and sipping a glass of.
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